Magnoliophyta
by Enchantable
Summary: Thirteen Flowers. Thirteen Divisions. Thirteen stories told after the Winter War. Please note that the couple indicated is the latest oneshot.
1. Strelitzia

**Alright so I got a request for an angsty ShunsuixNanao piece and I was totally for it. The first part of this fic was already bouncing in my head since I caught up on the manga and decided that Shunsui and Lisa were totally together. **

**This takes place after the Winter War**

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Numbness was the wrong word.

Numbness implied that one had lost feeling, that they were not standing there willing their limbs to remain strong. Numb was supposed to be the absence, it was not supposed to be the overload of everything, every fiber, every heartbeat, every receptor, everything that made you what you thought you were. Standing in the middle of what she was sure had, at one point, been a false world, Lisa Yadomaru was certain that just because she could not name what she was feeling, it was not the same thing as being numb. If anything, she found she wished that he was numb instead of so terribly confused.

Forcing herself to focus she whipped her Zanpakuto around and slid it into its sheath, a flick of her wist banishing her mask. The movements felt alien, like someone else was performing them. The smooth, cold surface of her Zanpakuto and the slightly chalky feeling of her mask were all familiar sensations but it was as if _her_ fingertips were not the ones brushed or grasped or did any of that sort. Perhaps they were not. Perhaps just like so many others, Lisa Yadomaru was a casualty of the Winter War. Maybe it was just her body left, some last vestige of a life that had once burned bright. But no more No, not after what had happened. Maybe she had done what she had simply been delaying time and time again, perhaps she _had_ died.

"Lisa."

The weary voice, the _impossibly_ weary voice, it seemed strange that it would belong to Shunsui Kyoraku. But it did. She supposed watching comrades you thought would be there forever die was a enough to damper even him. God knew she felt like she could sleep for the rest of eternity and still be tired. She turned her head to see him standing there, the remnants of his sash being used as a makeshift bandage for his shoulder. He was damn lucky his entire arm hadn't been cleaved off, even if it just hung listlessly down. One of Katen Kyokotsu's blades was out of its shikai form, shoved into the belt of his hamaka. The other was still manifested, though the sword was a cane rather than a blade at the moment. His opponent had managed to disable both his arm and his leg but she doubted they had survived long past that. The fool probably killed them when they managed to cut half his ponytail off.

He limped forward, each step echoing agony. Lisa wanted to run and help him, however out of character it might be for her, but she couldn't seem to get her legs to move. Instead she watched as he limped towards her, more blood spilling as the tears in his his haori turned the garment into little more than a memory. Her grip on the sword tightened further as she watched him approach until finally he made it to her. His head was lowered but when he raised it, despite the infinite sadness in his eyes his lips still managed to twist into a faint smile. It did little to erase the weariness that seemed to exist in his eyes but it was something, at the very least, and lisa felt a bit of the knot in her chest loosen.

"Always make me work for a victory, eh Lisa?" he said.

"It keeps you on your toes," she snapped in return.

He gave a nod and looked out at the damage that spread around them. For a moment he was silent, pensive, and then he looked back at her. She could read him, just as easily as she always had. He was trying to see what her plans were. Soul Society was never going to allow her back, she was hardly sure she wanted to go back either. The numbness was still in her, that distant feeling she could only identify as shock--though pride kept her from admitting it. She met his gaze steadily, her eyes unwavering. The world had ended inside this sphere but she was thankful her glasses had survived. It would have been worse if she couldn't see at least the world in front of her clearly. The rest, the rest was blurry.

The rest had always been blurry.

"You need to go see a healer," she told him, but the moment the words left her lips she wished they hadn't. A flash of pain that had nothing to do with injury sparked in his eyes, "I--"

"Its fine," he cut in, his voice oddly tight, "its over," he added, as if that somehow was true.

She nodded, letting his words be the lead. If nothing else she could give him that. It seemed like everyone who had survived this long was doing something to help, making an effort to be, if not nice then certainly less violent than usual.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Kensei walking, though how he was standing was beyond her. But what caused her throat to burn was the sight of Mashiro cradled in his arms as he carried her towards the narrow gateway. He wasn't taking her to the living world, he was taking her to Soul Society. She knew that there were too few healers, too many dying. they wouldn't get help there. She knew that he was taking her away from the dying, away from the blood and the pain and the debris. She would die, he would as well probably but they would die far from there. As he reached the opening he turned his head to look at her. She raised her hand in a wave and he nodded, a simple action but one that she knew he wouldn't have done if they hadn't gone through everything. Then he stepped through the barrier, his grip on Mashiro tightening as he took her far far away.

"You all got close then," Shunsui said finally.

"Yes," she replied, "we--" she stopped at the tightness in her throat, "we had to, to survive."

He nodded in understanding as they lapsed into silence. Immediately Lisa felt an ache somewhere deep inside. Neither of them had ever been good at being quiet. Even if it was just her huffing about something or him cracking a terrible joke, they had been a talkative pair. But not now. Now it seemed like the century of distance was more than that, more than they had ever thought possible. It was a terrible feeling, one that she didn't think she could stand. For a single, irrational moment she wanted to bring Kensei and Mashiro back, to find Shinji and Hiyori and everyone else who was gone and shout at them to argue, to do _something_ to break the silence that was suffocating her. Taking in a deep breath she mentally forced herself to square her shoulders.

"I'm leaving," she said finally, her voice sharp.

"I figured as much," he replied.

"Don't look so sad," she snapped, "I'm sure your little Lieutenant is worrying herself sick over you."

"Nanao tends to do that," he said, his eyes softening in a way Lisa knew they never had for her.

Suddenly she realized, with startling clarity, that the reason there was distance, the reason there was silence, the reason this was so incredibly awkward was because--because--

Because she had been _replaced_.

The little girl with the big glasses, the one that she had read stories too, the one who had grown to take her job, she had taken more than that. Or maybe being Shunsui Kyoraku's lover was just a prerequisite of being his Lieutenant. Maybe she had just taken on the paper work, the endless hours and the feeling of that stupid _stupid_ pink robe swinging forward to engulf your weary frame. Maybe it was all one big shiny package. Somehow that didn't make her feel any better. Much to her shame she felt tears sting at the corners of her eyes, tears she couldn't really blame on the dust that had already settled. Lisa turned her head, making sure the light flashed off her glasses and made it impossible to see her eyes. It was a low trick, one she knew probably wouldn't work, even before he proved her right.

"Are those tears in your eyes, Lisa?" he asked.

"Don't be stupid," she shot back, furiously checking to make sure none of them had fallen. He could see her tears, she had no problem with that, just as long as he didn't know the cause of them, she'd be alright, "you should go back before you loose your arm," she continued.

"Ah, you're probably right," he said, his voice not as morose as before, but whether it was her or his Lieutenant she wasn't sure, "loosing this much blood probably isn't good."

"No, its not," she replied coldly.

"Well, Lisa, I guess I'll see you when we need saving again," he said, she gave a jerky nod, "or maybe this time when I come looking for you, I'll find you," he added finally.

Her eyes widened, her lips parting as she gaped at him. He _looked_ for her? But she had been a traitor, branded by Soul Society with too much evidence against her for even a trial. If he looked for her, he must have broken so many orders, so many rules--it made her head spin. The smile that had been on his lips moments ago faded as he looked at her, almost sadly once again.

"You thought I wouldn't look for you?" he asked. She shook her head, "I did," he said finally, though he had already made that clear.

"I hope you didn't get yourself into too much trouble," she said finally pushing her glasses up more on the bridge of her nose.

"Oh Lisa," he said, "you know beautiful women always get me into trouble," she stared at him as he turned around, "take care of yourself, Lisa."

"Perhaps if you do the same, Captain Kyoraku, I won't have to," she shot back after him.

"Of course you will," he said turning around and smiling at her as best he could, "how else will I get to see you again?"

She stepped forward to go after him before she stopped herself. He was going to Soul Society, he was going where she had no place in going. When he got to the barrier she saw his feet hesitate at the opening that would take him home. He paused as if he was waiting, waiting for his dead comrades to stand up and tell him this had been nothing more than a terrible dream, waiting for _her_ to come forward and demand to know why he was hesitating when they had so much paperwork to do. Her fists clenched at her side as she willed him forward. If he looked back now, it would be her undoing. There would be nothing to stop her from running to him and begging him to tell her that she hadn't been replaced, that everything could still be how it was.

But then he moved forward.

Lisa breathed a sigh of relief as her pride howled, as her heart broke. She stood and watched as the last shreds of his white haori vanished through the bright opening, leaving her standing where she belonged with the other remnants of a past best forgotten, at least for the moment, while the wound was still raw. Closing her eyes tightly, she swiped at the few tears that managed to slip down her cheeks. A warm hand encased her shoulder and she turned her head to see Love looking at her. His sunglasses had fallen off, revealing his eyes, a sight she rarely saw. He looked terrible and sad and just as miserable as she felt.

"Come on," he said, his voice soft and serious, "Hachi's got a portal for us to get through," He explained.

"Lets go," she said, "there's nothing here anymore,"

He nodded as they moved down towards the portal that would take them onto the next adventure.

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Nanao stared at the portal, her fingers laced tightly together. She had seen the endless line of corpses come out, faces she had recognized and others she had not. Each one that came out that wasn't him she felt simultaneous relief and disgust pound through her. Relief that it wasn't him, disgust that she was relieved that someone _else_ had died. She heard the rumors too, the Vizards that had come and saved them. She had gotten to the portal just as Kensei Muguruma stepped out, brushing past healers who wouldn't have been able to save him or his Lieutenant and walking off into Rukongai. She had known what that meant. If they were there, if they had saved them all--

Then Lisa Yadomaru was certainly among them.

But the endless stream of dying was no longer coming and the dead, at least, were silent, but he had not been among them. They said he was talking to someone and she knew who he was talking to. He was talking to Lisa, he was talking to the woman she had succeeded, the woman she had looked up to for most of her life and been envious of for the rest of it. They had both survived, if nothing else she could see past the horrible churn of emotions in her stomach to find joy in that. As the seconds ticked on she realized she didn't care. Whatever they were doing, as long as they weren't dying she didn't care. As long as _he_ wasn't dying she didn't care.

She told him to take care, to be safe, that if he didn't come back she'd find a way to yell at him for it, but her words had been tinged with fear, with an underlying terror that he would disobey her and that she would never see him again. He had laughed and teased her for her unusual attention but his words had held a weight she hadn't heard before, as if he too acknowledged that this could be the time he would disobey her. As he left she had almost, just almost told him she didn't want him to go. But it wouldn't make a difference, he would still go and she would just be standing there looking like a fool. So she had just watched him, not responding when he waved to her for fear her hand would shake far too much.

She wished she had waved.

People were starting to leave now, the relief squads already up to their necks in the injured. The endless stream of bodies seemed to be too much, they had sent reinforcements to help the Captains and Lieutenants already there and she was beginning to wish they hadn't. The endless stream of bodies was too hard for people to see. Knowing they had died to protect what they were sworn too was a meager comfort. But she did not move. Not when Matsumoto came in, nor when Nemu or Yachiru were brought in. She didn't move when Orihime and Urahara's bodies were carried through the portal. Even the tears dripping down Yoruichi's face didn't move her from her spot. She stood there, waiting for him, waiting for the last one to come home. Eventually her heart stopped pounding, her breathing steadied and she managed to collect herself. But she didn't move, she stood waiting for him.

Just when despair began to take hold of her, just when she was sure he wasn't going to come back, he came.

The first thing she saw was the sword that had become his cane followed by his broken, dirtied form. But he was alive. Alive and hobbling through the portal, weariness etched on every inch of him. Her heart stuttered in her chest as she stared at him. He looked worse than she had ever seen him and not just from the injuries. Her hands fell to her sides as he stopped. Around them the remaining Kido workers shouted orders as they closed the portal up but to Nanao the world had gone very still. Slowly his head raised, his brown eyes raising up to meet hers. Horror filled her as she saw him sway slightly on his feet, seemingly unable to take another step. But he did, one foot moving gingerly forward as if he could push himself a few steps farther.

"Captain Kyoraku!" only the pain in her too tight throat let her recognize the cry of his name as coming from her lips.

Then she was running, as fast as her feet could take her. They had created a barrier around the portal and placed it outside the Court in case they made it through. So she ran, her book thrown behind her as her sandals sunk into the mud beneath her feet. She ran before he could take another step. She was sure she ran as fast a she ever had and just as sure that she would never reach him. But she did, eventually she did reach him, barely managing to stop in time before she slammed into him. Even so the hand that gripped his sword streaked out and grabbed her shoulder, steadying her.

"No need to run, Nanao," he said, his voice a mockery of how cheery it used to be, "no sense in you getting--" he froze as she grabbed him tightly, her arms wrapping around him, "--hurt," he finished, staring down at the woman embracing him as if it was the only thing keeping them together, "Nanao?" he questioned, looking down at the crown of her head.

Nanao froze, realizing what she had just done. Her eyes widened as she realized she had _hugged_ him, that she was still hugging him as if their lives depended on it. Furiously she jumped back and realized her mistake the moment he swayed once more. Moving back she grabbed his uninjured arm and pulled it over her shoulders, wrapping her arm around his back. His sword turned back and she grabbed it, shoving it into his sash next to the other one before beginning to move forward, taking on as much of his weight as she could.

"Welcome home, Captain Kyoraku," she muttered, feeling her cheeks burn.

"Oh my Nanao missed me!" he cried, his voice loud and humiliatingly exuberant.

A few people jumped, turning around to see what was going on before realizing it was just the two of them. When they saw that, for some reason, they seemed relieved. Nanao rolled her eyes at his antics as they continued to hobble towards the Fourth Division.

"They seem happy to see you," she pointed out finally.

"No," he said, "they're happy to see us," he looked at her. She sighed and shook her head, "they're happy to see something normal," he said. She looked up at him, "i know the world could end and my Nanao would still be breaking my heart!"

Nanao sighed and shifted his arm slightly as they continued to walk, desperately wishing that she could find a way to speak.

Find a way to tell him that she didn't want to do that anymore.

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**Alright so I'm thinking of making this into a series of vignettes, rather like Saints & Sinners but all focused on the end of the Winter War and how people deal with it. I've got half finished ones for KenseixMashiro and HitsuHina so that might happen.**

**Anyway hope you enjoyed the angst!**

**Please R&R!**


	2. Ranunculus

**Okay so this is for all the Ken/Mash fans who read the first part and wanted to know about Mashiro being injured. So here you go. Get your tissues ready and that's all I'm saying. Oh! That and the cliff they're on is also mentioned in my other Ken/Mash fic 'Jai Ho' so if you wanna know about that go to my profile and find that fic. **

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The ground beneath her was rocking.

Back and forth, gently, almost like that one time she had been on a boat but not quite. Besides, boats weren't warm like this, nor did they hold her with one arm under her knees, the other under her shoulders, so tight as if they thought she would break but were somehow desperate to keep the pieces together. Mashiro frowned slightly as she saw the ruins of Karakura through her spotty vision, craters she remembered making and some explosions that she couldn't quite recall. She tried to think but her head seemed to be somewhere else. Brow furrowing she tried to push herself but all she got in return was a nauseous feeling that made her regret the action.

"Kensei?" she finally found her voice, "where're we goin?" she asked.

"Away," came the gruff reply.

Mashiro tried to turn her head up to see him but abruptly agony laced her chest. She caught her lip between her teeth, copper filling her mouth as she bit back the scream in her throat. His arms tightened around her as his pace slowed. She forced her lip to drop, though she didn't dare shake her head. Instead she squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her face against his shoulder as strong as she could. She heard his breath hitch and for a moment she was torn between wanting him to yell at her and wishing that he wouldn't. He did the latter, simply continuing to walk across the sky, away from the rubble and the nightmares. She kept her eyes closed as the agony ebbed, like a wave pulled out to the ocean. But it did not fully go away. It dulled, but it did not disappear. Just as the coppery taste registered in the back of her throat, blood that this time had nothing to do with her bitten lip.

"S-stupid Arrancar," she said finally.

He made a sound in his throat that Mashiro knew was him agreeing with her. Abruptly light seared her eyelids and she realized they were stepping through the barrier out of Fake Karakura Town. She was not sorry to see the place go. She had never been sorry to see a battleground go. After the Division was through with them they were never much to look at. A homage to the sheer force of destruction that the Ninth Division was capable of. She remembered Kasaki used to draw them, saying he wanted to remember even when the landscape grew back. She liked to think if he was still around she would've gotten him a digital camera so he could take pictures instead. He never had much talent with drawing anyway. Only Eishima could really draw and he always refused to draw destruction. He said he saw enough of it, he didn't have to draw it too. Gizaeimon would just roll his eyes and ask where they were going next.

"Kensei where're we goin?" she asked.

He said nothing.

Finally the light cleared and she opened her eyes. Blue and black spots seemed to vie for her vision but she managed to clear her eyes enough to see where they were. Grass spread all around them, trees twisting up towards the heavens--trees that had a little over a century to grow since the last time they had been there and destroyed them. But what caught her eye was what she could see _through_ the trees. Rukongai was peeking out, the endless city just visible in the bright sunset. And past that, past that she could see the wall and beyond that she knew was the Court of Pure Souls. As the trees thinned she could see more and more of it until finally they were on top of a cliff. It seemed as though all of Soul Society was spread out before them, lights flickering on one by one in the dimming light. Holding onto her tightly, Kensei slowly lowered himself down until they were sitting.

Sitting there, with his familiar Spiritual Power washing over her, Mashiro felt like weeping. It was as though the last century was nothing more than a terrible dream. It did not take much to imagine the rest of the division behind them, already having set up camp and arguing about who had killed more Hollows. The better part of her brain said they weren't there but the rest of her imagined they were.

"Kensei?" she spoke his name, her voice not coming out as chipper as it usually did, "why're we here?"

"Too damn loud back there," he said, his voice gruff but not harsh.

Mashiro knew what that meant: too many dead, too many dying.

Besides, only a few low level healers made it through the fight and they were up to their necks in people who needed to be healed--people without Hollow Powers. Even if by some miracle they got through the terribly wounded, even if they had time for one green haired Vizard, Mashiro knew they'd never make it in time for anything like her being saved. Mashiro felt tears gather in her eyes as she turned her head slightly to Kensei's chest, looking down in a futile effort to hide her tears.

Only then did she see the red that stained her bodysuit wasn't just from her wound.

"You're hurt," she gasped, trying to lift her head as much as she could.

"Don't worry about it," he said, his arm tightening around her to stop her from moving and hurting herself further.

"But Kensei--" she began.

"I said don't worry about it!" he growled, though the force in his tone only caused red to spread with even more speed, "couldn't stand that place," he said finally, though whether he meant Karakura Town or the Court that existed in his mind, she didn't know.

"I always thought we'd die on a battlefield," she said finally.

"I can take you back," he offered.

"No," she said, "I like it here," she added, "its pretty," she sighed turning to look as the lights in Rukongai came on with more frequency, "they're safe now," she said looking at the people.

"Yeah," Kensei said, "they're safe."

"Somethin else'll come along," she said, "someone else'll have to do it though," she sighed, "I'm too sleepy to clean up more messes."

She heard something that sounded like his breath hitching above her before a gruff sound of confirmation came from his lips. She frowned as the world got much blurrier, blinking her eyes furiously to try and clear them--to no avail. Mashiro closed her eyes for a moment but when she opened them the world was only blurrier. She shivered slightly, her fingers tightening as much as they could in the fabric of Kensei's shirt. The world began to darken as well and Mashiro felt terror seep through her.

"K-kensei I can't see," she whispered.

"Its going to be okay," he said, his voice low and softer than she'd ever heard it but steady, steady and firm. She felt her terror begin to abate, "you're gonna go somewhere else, somewhere better than this shithole."

"But--"

"I'll be right behind you," he said firmly, as if he knew what she'd ask next.

"That's where I'm supposed to be," she protested softly.

"Well its my turn now," he said, his fingers tightening against her arm, "so you go ahead, I'll be there soon."

She faintly nodded, her head just barely moving as her eyes drifted completely shut. Her breath was still warm against his chest. He tightened his hold on her as he felt her breath become fainter and fainter, knowing that no matter how he held her she'd still slip away eventually. Her breath caught and he held her harder, praying that this wasn't happening, not after everything that they had been through, not after they finally got their revenge. How could it end like this? She never should have been on that mission, she never should have gotten Hollowified, she never should have lived her life like she had been forced to. He heard her exhale and then inhale as her eyes fluttered open. Clouded and distorted, they seemed to still be trying to find something. She was too injured to raise her head but he knew she was looking for him. As careful as he could he shifted her, moving her so that she could see him.

"Kensei," she whispered, her voice barely audible. He looked at her desperately, his throat too tight to form words. One of her hands moved upwards slightly on his chest, "I don't regret--" she took another, horribly rattling breath, "anything."

"I--" he stopped, knowing that apologies would have been brushed off, that they wouldn't have mattered to her anyway. So instead he gathered his courage and spoke the one thing he had never told her.

"I'm glad you were there," he said.

Her lips broke into the most heartbreaking and happy smile he'd ever seen. Kensei felt the burning in his eyes increase tenfold as hers began to slip shut for what he knew would be the last time. Before it could happen he angled his head and brushed his lips against hers, ignoring the blood that tainted both their lips. He felt the first of his tears fall onto her face.

He pulled back as her eyes fluttered shut completely. Her fingers tightened fractionally on his shirt one last time before they went completely limp, falling to her side. Her head lolled on his shoulder, her features forever in a mask of serenity. Kensei felt his heart stop as he stared at her, horror filling him. But as he watched her, out of the corner of his eye he began to see her body glow. He turned and watched as the glow moved up her body, engulfing her completely before the solid form in his arms became weightless, turning completely into Spiritual Particles that stayed for a moment before they too vanished into the air, leaving him frozen and alone.

For a heartbeat Kensei felt as weightless as they were, weightless and numb until reality came crashing into him. She was gone.

She was gone and for the first time he could remember, Kensei Muguruma was alone.

The howl that had been caught behind his teeth broke free as he buried his fist in the grass and screamed, not caring as his injury tore and worsened and pain seared through him. All that mattered was what was not there any more. He felt tears fall from his eyes. He hadn't cried since his sister had died all those years ago but on top of that hill, where no-one could see, he did. Somewhere deep inside he could hear Tachikaze cry out in pain as well. He was paralyzed by pain too deep to be physical. The tears stopped and his voice gave out as Tachikaze was finally quiet. The world lurched nauseatingly when he dared to move, to raise his head. But Kensei didn't care, in fact he welcomed it. It was only a matter of time before they found him, before the bastards tried to heal him. He didn't want that. Damn it he didn't want them to try and save him, not now, not after what had happened.

Behind him he heard voices suddenly, voices that were getting closer. Blinking the fog from his eyes Kensei tried to shove himself up but failed to do it properly, his arms giving out after the strain of carrying her there. The men seemed to have stopped, one voice obviously giving out orders. Kensei didn't move, didn't turn. With any luck he'd be dead by the time they came. He was able to identify one set of feet as they walked forward, but it was one and not many. He caught sight of a pair of feet before the form sat down. Even though his blurred vision he could identify the unruly black hair of that scared little kid he'd saved. Only it wasn't a kid anymore, it was a Lieutenant if he remembered right. Hard to tell considering both his arms were covered in bloody bandages. Still it was difficult to forget the 69 tattooed on his cheek.

"I sent the men away," Hisagi said finally, his voice slow and steady, "they're going to get medical help."

"There ain't any," Kensei managed to get out.

"I know," he said, telling him in much fewer words that he understood Kensei didn't want to survive.

"They listen to you?" he asked.

"I'm the Lieutenant of the 9th Division," he said.

"Huh. So you killed your old Captain?"

"He wasn't my Captain anymore," Hisagi said, one of his hands gripping Kazeshini.

"Shouldn't have been your Captain in the first place," Kensei grumbled.

He had a moment before pain flared in his torso. One hand clenched his shirt as he coughed and tasted more blood on his lips. He glanced over at Hisagi and then at the darkness that blanketed Rukongai, at the lights that danced below. Carefully he pushed himself to his feet. He felt the world sway and knew that it wouldn't be long now. He heard Hisagi get up behind him, standing there like he was waiting for orders--or for wisdom. Kensei had neither to give, not anymore. Silhouetted faintly behind him was the ghostly form of what Kensei knew what Hisagi's Zanpakuto. Despite the ache in his chest, Kensei felt his lips twitch in a smile before he turned and looked at Rukongai.

"Well kid," he began as he felt the sensation in his arms vanish. He didn't need to look down to know his arm was gone, "next shit storm's all yours."

"Yes, Captain Muguruma," Hisagi said as he watched him fade, "we got it from here."

Kensei gave a faint nod before the wind took the Spirit Particles he had become away. Hisagi stayed for a moment on the hill, one hand tight on Kazeshini's hilt as he looked out at the blanket of Rukongai. It didn't take long for one of the men to run back, just one, probably to tell him that there was no help to be spared. But he stopped short, no words leaving his lips. Hisagi hesitated for a moment before he turned to the man, his eyes widening when he saw it was Kira standing there. The blond man walked quietly forward, standing next to Hisagi on the hill.

"He said we'd have the next shit storm," Hisagi said finally.

"Makes sense," Kira said.

"I thought you'd be healing," he said.

"I'm supposed to be resting," Kira replied.

"Then what're you doing up here?" Hisagi asked.

"I thought you could use a friend."

Hisagi nodded and the two men stood there, watching the people below them. The cliff they stood on had played stage to many things. It had witnessed love and destruction, endings and beginnings. But with the two men standing there for the first time the cliff played stage to the beginning of a new era of peace.

At least until the next shit storm came along.

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**Well that's gotta be the saddest Ken/Mash fic i've ever written.**

**I'm gonna go cry now--or update Shukra where they can live happily ever after!**

***sob***

**R&R please!**


	3. Narcissus

**Okay so I wasn't going to continue this but I've gotten a fair number of requests for the HitsuHina part of this. I split it into two separate parts because as one it was W-A-Y too long. So this is the first part. **

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Hitsugaya stared at the door in front of him.

Given the events recently he wondered why it was that something so simple as a door could be so impossibly terrifying. Dressed in the simple white garments given to the patients of the Fourth Division's impeccable healing staff, he knew that if he did not move soon some well meaning healer was going to come and force him back to his room. He pressed his left hand into his side, forcing himself not to itch at his heavily bandaged right arm. The healers had managed to save and miraculously restore him after a well aimed cero had blasted his right arm and a good deal of the right side of his chest away. Any more damage, they had informed him and he would not have made it. As it was they had lost him twice the first night, barely bringing him back. He thought the line that had marked his right shoulder from saving Hinamori was a spectacular scar but if the amount of bandages wrapped around him were any indication then spectacular was not even going to begin to describe the newest one.

He reached out as though to knock on the door and stopped, his hand clenching to a fist in mid air before falling back to his side pathetically. It was a door, one step closer and he would be actually against it. But somehow the distance seemed impossibly far away. How was he supposed to possibly go through with this? And even if he did, by some miracle, manage to knock on the door what the hell was he supposed to say to her? He had no idea. It was not that he hadn't imagined speaking to her. He had thought of a thousand different way for things to go, a hundred different words that he could say but each one seemed worse than the last. Worse still, everything seemed to depend on what _she_ would say.

At the very least now he could speak to her and she would reply.

Or at least have the option to.

She hadn't been as injured as him, her wounds almost completely healed. From the information he had gathered her presence there was for some kind of therapy, though physical or mental he wasn't sure. the healers were taxed almost beyond the point where they could handle the flow of patients. Only those with the most fatal wounds could be seen immediately and even then it was to the point where they would no long die. There was just too many wounded, too few healers. Once again he was hard pressed not to itch at his arm, as if the injury sought to make its presence known. Not itching was almost as hard as knocking at the door when all he wanted to do was run and hide. Even if the healers did get to him, they all knew that he wouldn't wield a blade with two hands not anymore. If he could channel enough Kido to perform even a half decent spell with his hand it would be a miracle in itself.

Reaching out once more his hand made it to the wood but his fingertips simply pressed against it, as if by some power he would be able to will her into knowing it was him on the other side of the door. But the door remained closed. If Hinamori knew that he was on the other side---no, _no_, Hitsugaya cut himself off. Hinamori did not know. Perhaps it should remain that way, maybe it would be better if he just went back to the miserable room that he had been calling home since he woke up in the hospital. Or better yet, maybe he could just sneak out. Surely his arm could torture him anywhere in Soul Society, he didn't need to take up more room in the Fourth Division. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. How was he supposed to tell her what he was feeling?

Especially since he didn't really know himself.

He only knew that he had to get out of there. Out of Soul Society with its memories, out of the Fourth Division that was overflowing with the smell of the antiseptic and the moans of the dying. He couldn't go back to the Tenth either, no more than she could go back to the Fifth. He knew that any fight they got into would result in their deaths. No, they could not leave and go back to their Divisions. Finally summoning what he could, Hitsugaya reached out and knocked on the door. He forced himself to stay there, not to go. He had to wait, wait and hope that she would answer the door.

On the other side of the wood, Hinamori's head jerked up at the sound of someone knocking on the door. Her heart leapt into her throat as she pressed herself against the wall, looking at the thing that separated her from the rest of the world. The room she was in was the one that she had called home for the past months, ever since she had woken up and shown that she could not be left alone. She knew she was a danger to herself, to everyone. She had snuck out to participate in the battle and all that she had managed to do was get herself almost killed, again. After Kira's healing though, by the time she got back to Soul Society she had been almost physically healed. But no sooner had she gone near the Fifth Division then she had felt as though she was paralyzed.

They had to sedate her.

Unohana said that it was related to what had happened, to seeing Hitsugaya like _that_. Her psyche was compromised by Aizen and what had occurred. Hinamori had woken in the room she was in--the room she had been in for so long, and she simply had not left. She knew people were dying, people were living, but it seemed better to just keep the world out. After all, what if the next person she met, the next person she followed, what if they were like Aizen? What if she really could be that blind again? As much as she wished it wasn't the case she knew it could happen. Soul Society couldn't have that happen, not again. The place she had sworn to protect, that she had dedicated every fiber of her being to ensuring was safe--it was not. Not anymore. And her hands were stained with that.

Slowly Hinamori got to her feet. She deserved whatever was on the other side of that door, be it a Shinigami who had lost a friend or the Second Division coming to lock her away. She deserved it but that knowledge did not make her heart pound any less hard or her palms any drier. Taking a deep breath, she reached out and grabbed the handle of the door, turning it and pulling it open before she could loose her courage. The sight that greeted her was one she was not prepared for. Her eyes widened.

"Hitsugaya," she gasped, taking in the sight of him, "what are you doing here?"

"Do you want to get out of here?"

* * *

"Its just like I remember it," Hinamori said softly, looking around the cottage.

Hitsugaya followed her gaze, his eyes casting over the interior of the cottage. It was just as he remembered it, though he was certain it hadn't been so long ago that he was standing in the door. Their grandmother had died a year or so ago, quietly in her sleep. That was the last time Hitsugaya could remember being back in this place. But it was clean. Barely any dust, the futons and mats all neatly put away so they wouldn't get dirty. Hinamori quickly stepped inside, placing the bags they had brought on the floor. Awkwardly she brushed her hands down the loose hamaka she wore. Neither were in the uniform of the Gotei 13, both dressed as the civilians they were not. But they could not pretend like they were warriors when Hinamori's power was still drastically in flux and Hitsugaya could not move his right side without significant pain.

Slowly Hitsugaya entered the house fully. Unohana had released them both. She had been hesitant about it but the Fourth was stretched too thin. His arm wouldn't heal any faster, no more than Hinamori's psyche would improve if they continued to live in those rooms. They had to leave. Unohana had finally allowed them to go. Going to the cottage was the best plan, he knew that. Already inside he felt himself relax more than he thought he had in a very long time. Hinamori moved carefully through the house. The old floors creaked under the soles of her feet, the sound echoing in the deserted house. It was strange how something as simple as a creaky floor could make him feel better. But it did. Gin, Tousen, even Aizen had all had the ability to approach silently. Before you even knew they were coming their swords were streaking towards you. Here you would know, here one could hear everything.

"Hitsugaya?" Hitsugaya looked at Hinamori, "how's your arm?" she asked softly.

Hitsugaya was silent for a moment, his eyes just looking at her. Hinamori had been shocked to find him on the other side of the door, but it had paled in comparison to her shock when he asked her to come away with him. She knew it was what she needed but that didn't help her feel any better about leaving the room. She still wasn't sure why she did it. But she had put one foot in front of the other and before she knew it she had been out of the Fourth Division. What seemed like a few steps more and she had been completely out of Soul Society. It had gone so quickly, so hazily that by the time she felt like she was in control again, they were standing just outside the cottage.

But now it really struck her that she was all alone with Hitsugaya in the house they had grown up in. Alone. She couldn't remember the last time they had been alone together. Certainly not since she had run towards him, swinging her blade an accusing him of being the one to kill Captain Aizen. They had tried to come to this house to heal, she knew that. But standing alone with him in the main room, Hinamori couldn't help but wish that Matsumoto or someone would come in and break the awkward silence. But no-one was coming. She knew that was the point of the whole thing. Still she wished that he would tell her if he was alright. All that walking, it couldn't have been good for his injuries but he hadn't voice a complaint, not once.

"My arm's fine," Hitsugaya said quickly, his tone low and guarded.

Hinamori tried to force her face into a smile but it was too hard to do.

It made Hitsugaya feel sick. Even though she felt like nothing more than crying, she still tried to smile, still tried to protect him. It was like they were children all over again. She had always tried to protect him, be it from the neighborhood kids who teased him or the powers neither of them really understand. The first three days after he manifested his powers he had woken up with every blanket in the house piled on top of him, as if the col was somehow hurting him. It wasn't until the third day that he figured out it was Hinamori who was doing it. She was trying to protect him, even when there was nothing there really to protect him from. It wasn't like his power was really going to hurt him, but neither of them had known that right away and she had been determined to keep him warm in any way that she could. But now they were older, they understood more, the roles had been changed but Hinamori was still trying to protect him.

God, how could she still be trying to protect him?

"Thats--that's good," Hinamori said, "I'm gonna go lay down okay? If you need anything--"

"Yeah," he said softly, "you too."

Hinamori nodded and moved into the small back room of the cottage. Closing the door she pressed her back to the wood and let the smile slip off her face. She saw the look in Hitsugaya's eyes, the self loathing, the disgust. All of it because she had tried to smile at him. She knew it wasn't her smile, he didn't hate her. She knew why he was upset. But it was hard to think that when he had done nothing wrong he was torturing himself. If anyone should be, she felt like it should be her. She was the one who had done such horrible things. He had done nothing but follow his orders, going well above and beyond the call of duty. She had no right to be acting like this, no right at all. And yet she couldn't help but feel that way. Slowly she walked over to the bed and sat down on the mat. Closing her eyes she bowed her head, exhaling softly and wondering how everything had just gotten so impossibly out of hand.

On the other side of the door, Hitsugaya slowly lowered himself onto the porch, leaning back against the pillar of the porch. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head against the pillar, letting the sun low in the sky reflect off the pool to his right. A hundred years ago, maybe even less, he and Hinamori would have been sitting there eating watermelon with their biggest care being what they were going to do later that afternoon. Now each individual care seemed so big, so imposing that it was somehow easier to lump them all into one large, impossible problem that could never be solved. Breaking off little bits, solving this one problem at a time, it was pointless. Tilting his head back, Hitsugaya let the breeze blow past his cheek in a caress. Everything had gotten so impossible, so incredible, how were they ever to go on from here? Center, home, those were just words now. There was no finding their way back, not again. No matter how badly they wished for it to be that way.

Would it have been better to just accept defeat? Just take what was given to them and hope that one day, in some impossible future, they would find their way back to whatever light they had known? Coming here had been an impulsive decision, too impulsive for him to justify it. But it felt right. Being in the Fourth Division, surrounded by other, that was no place for him and definitely not for her. Not to be there, surrounded by the sick, the hurt, the dying--the healing. The healing were the worst. Hitsugaya did not know how he could hate people recovering but when he saw them he did. He hated that they struggled back, painfully, slowly but they moved regardless. And yet he felt trapped. Trapped by what he had been unable to do, trapped by the fact that no matter what he did the people around him suffered. They hurt, they suffered, because Aizen had been right. Hatred had dictated every swing of his blade. Hatred that had made him kill and destroy.

It had made him plunge his blade, hilt deep, into Gin Ichimaru while Matsumoto shrieked in the background.

The ruby eyed man had survived, at least he had been alive when Hitsugaya had left the Fourth but Hitsugaya could not forget just how enjoyable it had been when Gin's hot blood trickled past the ice that encased his hand and slipped down his skin. He had not heard Matsumoto's cries, forced out on lungs that were lucky to be breathing. Nor had he heard the soft chuckle that fell from Gin's lips, as if Hitsugaya had confirmed some long held belief of his. He had only been aware of the blood that pounded through his ears, of the raw joy he felt when he had felt his blade destroy whatever lay under Gin's pale skin. He had loved the violence. Loved every minute of it even as his own injury bled and made it hard to see strait, let alone stand upright. He had been so intent on the pleasure of destroying someone who had caused so much pain he hadn't even felt it when Gin's hand came up and blasted his chest and arm away.

The door slid open nearby. Hitsugaya didn't open his eyes or look, he knew it was Hinamori. He could hear the soft sound of her footsteps, still light and quick even when she was as broken as she was. She moved towards him and he heard her sit across from him, tucking her legs beside her as she leaned against the column next to his. Hinamori looked at him carefully. He seemed a bit younger with his head titled back and his eyes closed, but he did not look truly young. Granny had said that Hitsugaya was an old soul and Hinamori believed her. She had spent years trying to convince Hitsugaya to act like one of the other kids but he'd never gone for it. Now older herself, she could see that it was just his nature to be that way. To be protective. Even before he'd known he was the reincarnation of a heavenly guardian. It was his nature but there were so many times when Hinamori looked at him and wished that he could just be a regular kid.

None of them had the luxury of being innocent, not anymore, but she still wished that he could have had more time to be a kid. She didn't think he would be very good at doing the things she'd done when she was little. Running around, getting covered in dirt and bruises and still laughing until your stomach hurt. But she wished he would have at least had the option of being free. She'd chosen becoming a Shinigami, he hadn't. Not really, not in any way that mattered. It was that or his power would hurt someone. Just the thought of carrying that kind of burden made shivers creep up her spine. But Hitsugaya had always been that way, able to carry burdens others would run from, able to wield powers that would scare others. Even now, after all that happened, Hinamori knew she was terrible at hurting people.

People who weren't Hitsugaya.

Looking at him she knew his burdened wasn't eased by her presence. She could feel the pieces of her broken soul, grating against each other somewhere deep in her chest. And yet he stayed with her. She could still hear Matsumoto's screams for Gin, even though the ruby eyed man had done nothing but hurt her. Even after he blasted Hitsugaya she'd still screamed for him. Hinamori had wondered how someone could do that but as she looked at Hitsugaya she realized their own story was parallel to theirs. She was hurting him and he still stayed, though if it was out of obligation or something worse, Hinamori didn't know. He owed her nothing. Before Aizen even they had been drifting apart and while Aizen had made it worse, it was not as if he had been the first thing to move them apart. Hinamori wasn't even sure what that was but the time between their interactions had gotten longer and each time she saw him he seemed older, more burdened by his duties. He looked like a boy to the passing glance but anyone who looked at him--who _really_ looked, could tell he was anything but.

Under the bandages, Hinamori knew his skin was badly scarred. She barely been aware when they'd brought him in but it was the sight of him laying on the gurney with all those tubes going out of him that had pushed her over some edge she hadn't even known she stood on. And the blood. The blood had been the worst. It was like someone had taken the loneliness she knew he felt, the things that tore at him and had really torn a hole through him. His hair was matted with ruby, his skin already so pale was made worse with blood loss and stained bright red with the blood that Gin had spilt. Unohana had sedated her but it had been because she had screamed herself hoarse. Because she had fought to get to him, though they all knew she was useless. Because somehow the fact that he was laying there, it was her fault. Aizen had used her to taunt him, to spur him into fighting so blindly. He had prayed on the greatest of Hitsugaya's weaknesses.

And that weakness had been her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered before she could stop the words, her head turning towards the pool.

"What are you sorry about?" Hitsugaya's voice came to her, irritated and worried all at the same time. Hinamori jumped and gasped, turning to see he had opened his eyes and was looking at her.

"Its a Lieutenant's duty to look out for their Captain," Hinamori said hugging her knees to her chest, "i wish that I'd been able to see what Captain Aizen had been up to--"

"Don't call him that," Hitsugaya cut in, "he doesn't deserve the title of Captain. Not after what he did."

"Your right," Hinamori said resting her chin on her hands, "sometimes I forget not to call him that."

Hitsugaya said nothing, trying desperately to ignore the coldness that coiled through him. He told himself that it was just as she said, just that she forgot. He told himself that it was just because she had called him 'Captain' for so long, told himself that other members of Soul Society made the same mistake. He told himself and yet he found the voice in his head was not silenced at the reminders. History had done that. It had made him question her small slip ups. The last time that had happened she had wound up going well and truly crazy. Even though really all she had done was call Aizen by his former title. He did not close his eyes but he forced them away from her. He heard her sigh softly and shift again against the column but he kept his gaze out at the open sky.

They did not speak again until nightfall.

"We should get something to eat," Hinamori said finally, "are you hungry?"

"No." Hitsugaya replied.

"Me neither," Hinamori said softly, "I just thought--" she trailed off before looking from him to the night sky, "I forgot how peaceful it is out here," she smiled faintly, "you'd think there wasn't even a War."

"Out here there wasn't," Hitsugaya replied.

"Right!" Hinamori said, trying to sound cheerful, "its weird to think that, huh? That there wasn't a War out here," she shook her head, "do you think they knew that there was one? I guess with all of us coming in and out of Soul Society they'd have to have known," she paused, "its nice to think that."

"Think what?" Hitsugaya asked looking at her.

"Think that there was somewhere where there wasn't a War," Hinamori said hugging her knees tighter, "that there's a place where people weren't hurt or killed or broken."

Hitsugaya looked at her. he didn't know why but everything in him objected to her reference of being broken. He knew she wasn't talking about him, she was talking about herself. He was one of the hurt, she was one of the broken. But hearing her referred to as such, especially by herself, it made his stomach turn unpleasantly. Before he could open his mouth though, she was on her feet.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"I can't do Kido to heal your arm," she said, "but your bandages have to be changed. Unohana's orders, remember?"

She was gone and back before he had time to nod, a white box in her hands. Carefully she set it down next to him and sat on her knees. Unohana had showed her what to do, just as she'd shown him how to knock her out if she had a break down. Truthfully neither should have been taking care of the other but what had once worked was no longer the case. Not with the overflow of the Fourth Division and the shortchanging of Healers. Reaching out, Hinamori opened the box and rifled through until she found the pair of special scissors. Holding his arm gently in her hand she began to cut away the bandages that encased the appendage. The air was cool, even on the damaged skin of his arm. She kept her head bowed and her eyes on the task as she carefully eased his arm out of his sleeve, pushing the fabric to his waist before continuing to methodically cut the bandages away, leaving the skin exposed.

It was worse than either could have imagined.

Hitsugaya told himself that he was lucky to have survived with what he had. With the ropy, thick scars that spanned most of the right side of his chest and the entirety of his right arm. That he was lucky for the thick, dark line that encircled his shoulder and showed where they had reattached his arm. That he was lucky to be able to wiggle his fingers and feel any of the breeze that blew from the deadened to the healthy skin. Maybe if there had been fewer with worse injuries he would have been pulled further from the brink of death. Maybe if Orihime had been there he would have survived with everything in tact and no scars to show for it. But they had all lost things in the War, things that could not be reattached or tended to with only scars to serve as reminders. He was one of the lucky ones. Or so he told himself anyway.

Slowly he looked up to see Hinamori's reaction but if she felt anything towards the scar she did not show it on her face as she began to change his bandages like Unohana'd taught her to. He still knew he could read her, as she could surely read him, but he saw nothing on her face. No disgust, no aversion, no fear--not at first. And when he did finally see emotion on her face, it was worse than any of those. It was sadness, it was pity. All reflected in the brown eyes that brightened slowly as tears collected in them.

"Hinamori," he began as she slowly began to wind bandages around him, "Hinamori stop," he said, "its alright, I can--"

"I'm sorry," she cut him off, her voice soft and choked as her eyes darted up to meet his, "this is--this is all my fault," she said shaking her head, her eyes closing as a tear broke free.

It was. All the pain, all the suffering--all of it was her fault. She was Aizen's second in command, she was the one closest. She should have seen what he was. And even if she hadn't, she should have been strong enough not to hide in the Fourth like some coward. She shouldn't have been stuck until Unohana had given her her Zanpakuto and told her that the others needed her on the battlefield. And all she'd done there was get knocked out and acted as something to be used to incite Hitsugaya to blind violence that had almost cost him his life.

A calloused thumb came out and wiped away the tear.

Hinamori's eyes flew open as she looked at him. Hitsugaya let his hand linger against her cheek, his eyes locked on hers. Not looking away in fear or shame but holding her own gaze. Hinamori found herself unable to tear her gaze from his bright blue-green eyes.

"Its not your fault," he said, his voice firm.

"But I--"

"Hinamori," he said, "its not your fault," he repeated, "the only one to blame is Aizen."

"Then why do you look so guilty?" she whispered. Hitsugaya let his hand drop from her cheek, his eyes leaving hers. Hinamori looked down at her hands, aware she'd crossed some kind of line. Ducking her head she worked to bandage his arm, "you shouldn't," she said finally, "you didn't do anything to be guilty about."

"I couldn't protect you."

He muttered it so low that Hinamori almost missed the admission. But from the shift of his eyes and the clench of his unscarred fist, she knew she'd heard him correctly.

"You shouldn't have to protect me," she said tying off the bandages, but her hands lingered on his, "not from this--"

"Yes," he said, his eyes meeting hers once more, "you always spent our childhoods trying to get me to be normal, carefree--all the things I wasn't. I couldn't be them then, I can't be them now. But I always thought--" he trailed off before pushing forward, "I always thought that I'd be able to protect you. That if there was one thing I could do, it was that."

"But Hitsugaya you can do so much!" Hinamori protested, "you're so brave and strong and--and such a good Shinigami! You shouldn't even have to worry about someone like me."

"I do," he said finally.

"I know," she said looking down, "I just wish that you wouldn't always worry about me," her fingers tightened gently on his wrist. Between the bandages and the scars he barely felt it, "I mean I'm older than you," she added.

"Not by much," he said.

She smiled at that and though tears were still on her face and her eyes were still threatened by more, it was the first genuine smile Hitsugaya thought he could remember seeing on her face. And just for a second, he could pretend that they hadn't gone through all that had happened. That they were a part of this world that was untouched by the Winter War. That there weren't days of paperwork waiting for them or other members of the Divisions who couldn't even look at them. Just for a moment they could be free. Hinamori moved, carefully repackaging and bundling the supplies before picking up the bandages she'd changed and disappearing back into the small house. Hitsugaya turned around and looked past the house, his eyes easily finding where Soul Society lay. He couldn't really see it now but he did not need to, to know what was happening there. To know the chaos that still filled the place to the brim, chaos they had escaped from, no matter how selfish the reasons. Hinamori slowly came out of the house, settling herself in the spot across from him.

"Do you ever wish we weren't Shinigami?" Hinamori asked, looking at him, "like if we had stayed here, become other things?"

"No," Hitsugaya answered, "our Spiritual Powers would have gotten the best of us."

"You're always so practical Hitsugaya!" Hinamori said shaking her head as Hitsugaya felt heat on the back of his neck.

"What else would you have done?" he asked finally.

"I don't know," Hinamori said, "I don't think I would've been good at anything else--not that I'm really good at being a Shinigami--"

"You are," Hitsugaya said, "you're better than you think."

"Thank you, Hitsugaya," Hinamori said ducking her head to hide the pink that stained her cheeks, "I do like being a Shinigami," she said, "but I like it here too."

Hitsugaya nodded wordlessly, silent as he considered her words.

"I'm glad we came here," Hinamori said finally, "this was a good idea, Hitsugaya," Hinamori got to her feet again, "I think I'm going to go to bed. 'Night Hitsugaya," she said turning and leaving.

Hitsugaya listened to the doors slide shut before he spoke.

"Goodnight, Momo."

* * *

**Second part will be up soon! You know how to make it sooner (*hint* it has to do with pressing the green button down there). **

**Also I'm making this into a 13 chapter story with a oneshot centered around each Division. If its a multi-division couple (like HitsuHina) then itll probably be more than one chapter. **

**Review and i'll update faster!**


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